


capital letters

by Catznetsov



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Didn't Know They Were Dating, Food as a Metaphor for Love, M/M, Washington Capitals, Washington D.C., this is quite a bit about the city, those two tags sure fit together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 14:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19831831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catznetsov/pseuds/Catznetsov
Summary: “That doesn’t seem fair at all, Coach,” Wilson says.  “You’re monopolizing all the new guy time. Hey, you got plans for dinner?”“Um,” Michal says. He casts about for anything accurate but not mortifying.He gets a muscular smile, just a flash before Michal’s gaze bounces off and lands limply on the floor again. “C’mon, Todd. Talk about whatever you all do back there tomorrow. I want chicken, I’m taking the new guy for chicken.”--Context: Tom Wilson has been to every restaurant in the greater DC area and spent "an entire afternoon" making a list of them for Kempný when he was freshly traded and very sad. I owe 40 drabbles on this important subject.





	capital letters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AetherSeer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AetherSeer/gifts).



> A--
> 
> Thank you for the year, I hope you have another fabulous one and a good day today (I'm hedging 'great' given the givens but here's some light reading material to help?)
> 
> Anyone not A--
> 
> Tom Wilson has been to apparently every restaurant in the greater DC area and spent "an entire afternoon" making a list of them for Kempný when he was freshly traded and very sad. I owe 40 drabbles on this important subject.   
> Title from the Hailee Steinfeld song because it makes me laugh.

There had been dry roses blooming over the concrete barriers as he left the airport, under a rime of dust and a little ice. He kicked his bag under the blue bus stop bench so a family could sit and stood around looking at them until the shuttle arrived, not quite ready to step to the edge of the sidewalk and touch their colors. Compared to that, for a moment, anything seems reasonable. 

He’d picked three things, not to push it. Remembering names is out the window; not getting lost on the way to the rink was a loss because he never had a chance. People on the metro keep asking him where he’s going before he realizes he needs help.

Smiling for at least three people when he gets into the building turns out to be easy. It seems as though everyone is looking at him after they talk, not before—it’s unsettling, being rocked off balance by something so small, but everyone in America so far has seemed to size you up fast and rattle off where you should go. 

Coach does it the most, looks the whole time like maybe he’s trying to catch Michal out for looking away. Michal shouldn’t be calling him that maybe, he’s not head coach just Michal’s new D coach, but he had told Michal to call him by a first name, and it’s all just too American. Michal keeps his head up the whole time, tries not to let his gaze slip off toward tempting corners or his own knees. Maybe he’s thinking too much about that to notice someone come up behind him until Coach wraps a sentence with, “Can we have ten, Tommy, and then I can chat?”

When Michal twists, the guy isn’t leaning in the doorway so much as replacing the door. Michal spares a prayer for his peripheral awareness, which he must have lost somewhere back in baggage claim. He’s met bigger guys on the ice, but Tom Wilson takes up space so thoughtlessly, or easily maybe is more polite, Michal reminds himself, that it’s like you have to think extra about how big he is. 

“That doesn’t seem fair at all, Coach,” Wilson says.“You’re monopolizing all the new guy time. Hey, you got plans for dinner?”

“Um,” Michal says. He casts about for anything accurate but not mortifying. “Don’t know about the metro. Walk around here?”

He gets a muscular smile, just a flash before Michal’s gaze bounces off and lands limply on the floor again. “C’mon, Todd. Talk about whatever you all do back there tomorrow. I want chicken, I’m taking the new guy for chicken.” 

Coach rolls his eyes, and looks to Michal like they both know the joke. Michal smiles back. It seems polite. “Get on then,” Coach says, and Wilson bounces on his toes before ushering Michal over.Michal doesn’t expect a hand on his back to guide him out, so there’s no reason to think about it extra when he doesn’t get one.


End file.
